Little Red Wolf
by FairandFey
Summary: When Red leaves the bakery with a delivery for the mysterious old Grandmother, she soon finds herself fighting to save her life. Nothing is as it seems. A modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

She had a lunar calendar hanging on the wall of her room, right over the bed. Lined in silver and deep blue, ornately decorated, it was impossible to miss- not that she ever needed the thing. It had been a gag gift, really, from a mother trying to make the best of an admittedly fucked-up situation.

She always knew what phase the moon was in. Even now Renee could feel the siren call of moonlight, the wolf howling just under the surface. It was only two days to the full, and the werewolf felt the pull in her bones. As she dozed up against the coffee shop's counter, eyelids flickering in a dream-chase, the time seemed impossibly long.

"Red! Red, get your lazy arse up! We could have customers!" Shifting easily from one state to another, the young woman raised one eyelid to glare balefully at her employer. The man thumped the counter once more for good measure as she stared at him.

As pets and their owners began to look suspiciously alike, so had Romulus and his shop become much the same. The both gave off an air of shabby gentility, of things from a finer time gone to seed. His thinning hair was the same shade as the peeling, fake wood tables; seats and shoes were covered in worn leather. It might have been fine, once upon a time- but now it was only old, just like the man.

"Rom, we haven't had a customer all day. That's hardly going to change because I take a much-needed rest." She tossed her head imperiously, crimson curls bouncing. Her hair was not the common orange-red of most gingers, but a deep scarlet that had baffled both her parents and earned her nickname. Red. Little Red from the hood, she thought with a purely mental snicker. The neighborhood just beyond the shop's whitewashed walls was not a friendly one, but she'd grown up here. She knew the dangers just as well as anyone. These streets weren't for stopping to smell the roses.

Romulus only looked at her in that particular way he had, eyes drooping at the corners and mouth tight, and Red knew she didn't stand a chance. For a balding, middle-aged man with an erratically explosive temper, he could be persuasive when he needed to be. He twisted his hands as he looked at her, dark green gaze considering. Red shifted uncomfortably under his regard.

"Well, lass," he said finally, "If you can't stay awake at the counter, might as well make yourself useful. I've got a delivery for you." The girl opened her mouth in sudden protest as she realized exactly what she'd gotten herself into, but her employer only raised an admonishing hand.

"You were asleep on duty. Perhaps a visit to Grandmother will teach you not to do so, hm?" He chuckled at her fierce look and began to gather pastries from the back room, talking on even as his hands blurred in easy movement. Rom had run the business on his own before she'd come along, and didn't seem to have lost any competence since. Red set her lips in a scowl.

The woman wasn't anyone's Grandmother, really. Not anymore. Her children- if she'd had any, the stories differed- had long since left for more prosperous parts. And the old lady stayed here alone, chastising the young children of the neighborhood and any salesman unfortunate enough to knock on her door. She was the neighborhood bogeyman, the wicked witch of tales. Grandmother also, regrettably, most annoyingly, had a sweet tooth. She came only to Romulus for her pastries- and who had to deliver them? Red, of course.

She continued to whine as he loaded up a carry-all with muffins and croissants, powder puffs and sweets of all sorts. The man seemed to have tuned her out, but Red always gave it her best effort. Then she halted mid-word, hypersensitive nose twitching. Rom was not as successful at ignoring his glare.

"You gave her the last jam tart, didn't you." She accused. His guilty silence was proof enough, and the girl let out an explosive sigh, pretending not to see her employer's eye roll. "Figures. I head out into the middle of nowhere to do a delivery, and in return you give away the last of the jam tarts. How charitable of you, Rom." He only grinned at her and patted her condescendingly on the head. Red had to resist the urge to snap at his fingers, and he seemed to notice, wiggling them at her as he pulled away.

"Don't you worry, my girl. There will be more ready when you come back." With that, he handed her the basket, nodded, and shoved her out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A long time ago, when she'd been young and still human, Red remembered being terrified to walk the streets. Especially at times like this, when the sun had begun to set and the houses looked sinister in half-light, grimy sidewalks and concrete fronts all faded to a monotone grey. Now- now she walked proud and tall, shoulders thrown back and red hair shining bright as blood. Flaunting herself. Daring anyone to try and take her down. The wolf looked out of a human face, all bared teeth and malice.

Combat boots met asphalt in a steady rhythm, echoing in the empty street. Even the neighborhood's more dangerous types gave her a wide berth. There was something unnerving about the young girl, surely enough, and no one wanted to take a chance. It was one of the few benefits she'd found after the transformation, like the sharpened senses and the incredible strength. A killer lurked just behind her eyes now. Red had gone from an innocent little girl to a wolf in girl's clothing, and sometimes she liked it.

But sometimes- most often after the full moons, when the wolf and full reign and she woke without a memory of the past night and blood on her hands- Red wished she could be a girl in wolf's clothing. Or even just a girl.

But the wolf was always on the inside.

The whine of a chainsaw cut through her internal reverie, and the girl stopped just short on a street corner. The route she usually took to Grandmother's- a crooked street sign proclaimed it Needles Lane- was blocked by a swarm of men with power tools. Red frowned thoughtfully, hands tucked into the pockets of her baggy jeans. It looked like the large oak that used to stand across the street had finally fallen in the earlier storm. Now it lay across the road, wide as three men, covered in construction types as they worked to clear the way. One of the men, the one wielding the saw, glanced her way and grinned. He said something, probably lewd, that she couldn't hear over the tool's roar. Red raised a single eyebrow at him, smirking appraisingly. Tall, dark haired and broad, he wore a flannel shirt and work-rough boots.

He looked like every stereotypical lumberjack, actually, but she didn't think he'd be able to hear if she said as much. The young woman settled for a rude gesture, prompting laughter from the other workers as she turned away. There was, after all, another way to Grandmother's. It had been a while, but Red remembered the path, a winding detour through the older section of the neighborhood. It was a good ten minutes longer. But then, she wasn't particularly looking forward to the end of her journey- and trying to scuttle around a group of men with sharp tools probably wasn't a good idea, no matter what the wolf was thinking.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder and turned in the opposite direction, strode confidently across the street to Pine Court. Here were smaller houses with taller trees, windows shuttered against the darkness like so many children hiding behind their mothers' skirts. Red hummed tunelessly to herself as she walked, a sort of comforting buzz that blocked the familiar nighttime sounds from reaching her ears. She didn't really feel like listening to another dozen muggings before she got to the old lady's house. The basket of goodies bumped her leg with each step in a kind of metronome. It was comfortable, just allowing her mind to relax and focus on the purely physical task.

The walk had begun to get suspiciously long when Red slowed to a halt, staring around at the street and gardens that looked strangely familiar. Night had fallen in truth, but she was almost certain there couldn't be more than one old lady who had knitted mauve mailbox cover. She cursed, stomping futilely on the sidewalk as she turned in a slow circle. If she'd only gone the other way- but she hadn't , and now she was going to be late, dammit, and Grandmother would complain, and Rom would give her those big puppy dog eyes of his. Her fingernails cut shallow circles into her palms as the girl turned in a slow circle, peering at street signs with too-sharp eyes.

There. This was the right turn, she was certain- and there was Grandmother's house, all alone at the end of the cul-de-sac. Its neighbors had been long since abandoned (Red had a feeling, if she lived that close to a crazy old woman, that she'd move pretty quick too) but the lights were still on, covered in intricate lace curtains going yellow with age.

Red walked up the filthy sidewalk, carefully avoiding the weeds springing up through the cracks lest they be something poisonous. Hard to tell, with this woman. There was no doorbell, only a large antique knocker hanging amidst peeling brown paint. She took it in hand and knocked once, twice. Waited a few moments, then knocked again.

There was silence. She hovered awkwardly on the doorstep, shuffling in place, fidgeting with the basket in hand. Red wondered vaguely what old people did for fun, and if she was out doing it now.

Finally, there was a call from inside like the whistle of a teakettle. "It's unlocked! Let yourself in, you lazy girl."


	3. Chapter 3

Red did as she was bid, brown eyes narrowed in silent protest even as she edged carefully inside. The door clicked shut behind her, and the delivery girl turned to examine the witches' lair. There were no human heads or spider webs- any insect would be terrified to nest here- but a great deal of salmon pink and doilies on every available surface. She shivered, and peered into the next room, where Grandmother lay on her bed, surrounded by a mound of embroidered pillows. She was all skin and bone and willpower, propped up against the white bedspread in an old woman's nightcap and gown. Red suspected there were curlers under there, as well, but she wasn't quite brave enough to ask. All of her senses were screaming in warning, but she had a feeling that was human paranoia rather than wolf skills. The look in those cold grey eyes was enough to make her feel like baring her belly.

She set the goodies carefully onto a side table under Grandmother's watchful eye, then hesitated, wondering if she ought to mutter some condolences about the woman's apparent sickness. But Grandmother seemed to read her mind, and moved quickly to nip it in the bud. Her lips pursed, a line straight as an ironing board.

"I'm fine, girl, and none of your pitying nonsense. Just leave me my things and get on." Grandmother raised a shaking hand to her lips and coughed, eyes flickering to something Red couldn't see. "Leave an old woman to suffer in peace."

Paradoxically, now that Red had been told to leave, she only wanted to loiter a bit longer. She cleared her throat, looked around the room, and remarked meekly, "What nice curtains you have, Grandmother." This earned her another ice-cold glare, and Red barely controlled a wince. "The better to keep out riff-raff like you, girl. Go on then. Off with you. I'm sure Rom can…find something for you to do." Her tone managed to subtly suggest that Red wasn't good for a great deal.

The teenager bristled and her chin came up stubbornly as Grandmother looked away again. "I was just trying to make a little civil conversation- _what_ are you looking at?" she snapped. Red whirled around in the direction of Grandmother's gaze, and her ignored animal senses flared to full alert.

There was a man. A man who was trying unsuccessfully to vanish back behind a large wardrobe, who had been gesturing at Grandmother to _shut up_ and smelled of sweat and gunpowder and Grandmother's fear. He had a gun, and he was the lumberjack she'd seen earlier. He took three long strides over to the bed and struck the old woman across the face with the butt of his pistol, and the sharp _crack___broke Red's horrified silence.

"What the hell do you think you're-"

"You were supposed to get rid of her, you stupid bitch-"

They both spoke at the same time. Red and the man stared at each other for a long moment, and then he lifted the gun to point at her chest. He let that sink in for a moment before he continued talking. "Now. You're just gonna sit tight with the old hag, missy, and I'm gonna finish my job here and get out. Got that? Either of you tries to call the cops or any shit like that, you get shot. End of story." Red saw a large bag sitting unattended behind the bed, and inhaled sharply. A robbery. That was all. He hadn't discovered what she was, wasn't out to get her- _what she was_. The girl licked her lips, thinking rapidly, as the lumberjack nodded in satisfaction and began to dig through the large wardrobe. The gun was tucked into his waistband, and she didn't doubt he was quick on the draw.

But he was only human.

Red took a long, shaky breath. She let her feet slide out into a more balanced stance. She took a careful step away from the bed, and then she stopped being careful. She stopped being _Red_, was more than just _wolf._ This feeling, this human consciousness and wolf body, was something new. This was bestial power and human fury intertwined. This was balance.

She gave a loud, animal growl. The man turned, hand halfway to his weapon, and the wolf struck in a flash of red-brown fur and white teeth. They met in the middle of the room, rolled into a sturdy old couch, dotting the hand-woven rug with spots of crimson.

And then, as quickly as that, it was over. The thud of a body hitting the ground was softened by layers of fabric, the copper smell of blood rising obscenely amidst the scent of old perfume and pastry. Red pulled away, two-legged now, trembling with effort and eyes wild. She was distantly aware of Grandmother making a small, horrified sound before she regained her composure. Grandmother drew herself up, proud as any queen in her prime, and shuffled across the room to dial the police on an ancient rotary phone.

Red looked down at the man. She'd killed him. They'd both killed him, wolf and girl. For the first time, she'd been in control. And all it had taken…

She touched the corner of her mouth and her fingertips came away wet.

"My," she murmured in the tones of one dreamy with shock, "What sharp fangs I have."


End file.
